


At the Water's Edge

by aurora_australis



Series: New Found Lands [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, My Dinner with Phryne, Paris (City)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17366681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: Having embarked on a “casual, holiday romance” Jack and Phryne find themselves in Paris for the weekend, enjoying dinner for two with no reservations.Set afterCan't Stop Falling, and part of the (apparently) continuing adventures of Holiday Modern Phryne & Jack.





	At the Water's Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this Tumblr post](https://whopooh.tumblr.com/post/181767546233/fuckyeahessiedavis-essie-davis-in-a-promo-for) and the video it links to (do yourself a favor and watch) and the song [_Trois Navires De Blé_ by Great Big Sea](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZytJ2DD9xKU).
> 
> Merci beaucoup to Fire_Sign for her as always phenomenal beta skills, Bluecityrose for checking (and correcting) my French, and whopooh for finding a ~~sucker~~ writer for this prompt at my request, even if that ~~sucker~~ writer turned out to be me.

“Votre table, mademoiselle.”

“Merci,” Phryne responded, gracefully accepting the chair the overly eager man had pulled out for her. Another waiter hung back, unnecessary to the process but there all the same. Jack shook his head and tried very hard not to roll his eyes at the action. 

He also pulled out his own chair.

Once they were seated, the maître d'hôtel and his helper hovered a bit, making sure the table was pristine before reluctantly departing together. Jack had the decency to wait until after they’d left to laugh out loud.

“What?” she inquired suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Jack said.

“Liar,” she said. “Out with it.”

“Fine.” Jack rested his arms on the table, and she mirrored the action, leaning in to hear him better. “I think you have a superpower.”

“Do I?”

“Mmmmm. Have you ever noticed how attentive people are to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time we go out, it’s like… oh! You’ll appreciate this analogy. It’s like one of those scenes where the race car pulls into the pit and about a hundred people jump up to assist at once. Just a cacophony of helpfulness and pluck. People will literally stop whatever else they are doing to attend to you. Waiters, concierges, docents, pilots - and that one was frankly terrifying at the time, Phryne - men, women, doesn’t matter; people just snap to attention to make sure you’re taken care of.”

“Does that bother you?” she asked seriously.

“Not at all,” he answered honestly. “I snap to attention when you’re around too,” he said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle, earning him a snort from Phryne. “But it is sometimes funny to watch.”

“Well I don’t really think that’s true, Jack, but I will keep an eye out going forward.”

“You do that,” Jack said good-naturedly, reaching for his menu. Picking it up, he squinted, leaned in, squinted again, and finally gave up and pulled out his phone. Jack turned on the flashlight and pointed it at the menu, earning him an eye roll and a heavy sigh from Phryne.

“What?” he said defensively. “It’s dark in here, and I can’t see the menu.”

“Don’t bother, Jack, it’s all in French anyway. I’ll just order for both of us, alright? And put that away, you look like a lighthouse.”

Jack harrumphed, but did as she asked. 

“Nothing wrong with lighthouses,” he grumbled and she laughed lightly.

“Nothing at all, darling. I quite like lighthouses. They’re a bit like you actually - solid, steady, warning of danger. A light in the dark,” she continued a little softer, and suddenly he was glad of the dim light so she wouldn’t see his blush. Then she leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and arched an eyebrow. “I just don’t need to dine with one.”

Jack tilted his head, conceding the point, and put down his menu.

The head waiter came over then and, looking quickly between them, addressed Phryne.

“Bonsoir. Que puis-je vous servir à boire? ( _Good evening. What can I get you to drink?_ )”

Phryne smiled at him and replied in perfect French. “Une carafe d'eau et une bouteille de vin rouge, s'il vous plaît. ( _A pitcher of water and a bottle of red wine, please)”_

“Très bien.” Then he gestured to the menu. “Vous avez choisi? ( _Have you chosen?_ )”

“Qu’est-ce que vous recommandez? _(What do you recommend?_ )”

“La spécialité maison, mademoiselle. ( _The speciality of the house, miss._ )”

“Parfait! Nous aurons deux s'il vous plaît. ( _Perfect! We will have two please._ )”

“Quelle cuisson? ( _How would you like your meat cooked?_ )”

“À point. ( _Perfectly cooked._ )”

“Excellent. ( _Excellent._ )”

The waiter then collected their menus and moved back towards the kitchen. Once he was gone Phryne turned back to Jack.

“So, Jack, are you enjoying your first trip to Paris?” she asked, just before grabbing his watch to look at the time. “All,” she quickly did the mental math, “four and half hours so far?”

“What makes you think it’s my first trip?” he replied, his eyebrows raised in thinly veiled amusement.

“Oh, I just assumed since you’d never been to London before... well, there I go again. It seems every time I make an assumption about you, I’m wrong.”

Jack pulled a face as he proceeded to correct her. “You figured out I was a cop the first night you met me.”

“That wasn’t an assumption, darling, that was just a fact,” she said, waving in the general direction of his person. “No, no it seems lately, you’re full of surprises.”

“Perhaps _I’m_ the never ending source of mystery then?” he joked, widening his eyes slightly in good humor.

“Perhaps you are,” she agreed, her eyes warm and happy, which transformed his expression into one far closer to adoration than teasing. 

Phryne instinctively moved to fiddle with her hair then only to be met with air. She rolled her eyes at herself as Jack chuckled. Phryne had cut her hair earlier in the week to more of a bob and was having trouble getting used to it.

“For what it’s worth,” Jack said, “I like it. It suits you.”

“You say that about everything,” she countered.

“Everything suits you,” he explained with a shrug, as though that was the most obvious fact in the world. Phryne stuck her tongue out at him in reply. “You see,” he said, “even petulance suits you, which is a very hard look to pull off.”

She was on the verge of telling him what else he could pull off when the waiter returned. Several waiters actually, all eager to assist. A cacophony of helpfulness and pluck.

As they flitted about, filling glasses and setting up the table, Phryne tried very hard not to make eye contact with Jack, but a low “vroom vroom” noise coming from his side of the table forced her to look up to send him a warning glance. His sly smile and soft “beep beep” as she met his eye was the final straw and she only just managed to cover her laughter with coughing. Luckily three waiters were on hand to immediately offer her a napkin.

After the very helpful pit crew had left, Phryne picked up her glass and the thread of the conversation.

“So what brought you to Paris the first time?” she asked. “Another holiday? Honeymoon perhaps?” she asked, somewhat tentatively. 

Jack’s smile disappeared despite his desire to assure her the question was not too personal.

“Uh, no. No it was work. Just after I was named deputy of the task force in Melbourne, we stumbled on a massive human trafficking ring that turned out to be run from Paris. Bringing them to justice was an international effort, and I was sent as part of the Australian team. We did eventually shut them down, but it turns out they got wind of our operation and there were quite a lot of casualties here and abroad as we were closing the net. Trying to eliminate witnesses mostly. Not,” he coughed, “not a lot of happy endings with that one...”

Jack trailed off and looked at his wine for a moment before continuing. “Anyway, between the investigation and the depositions, I was here almost two months.”

“Sounds grueling,” she said quietly.

“Yes, tough schedule. Didn’t even have time to pop across the Channel to visit Kenny.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, and he nodded.

“No.” He gave a wan smile. “No, I’m afraid Paris doesn’t hold the best memories for me.”

“We didn’t have to come,” she said, not accusingly, just as a statement of fact. She had offered him several choices for their weekend to the Continent. He had chosen Paris.

He reached across the table and took hold of her free hand.

“I wanted to come back,” he said simply. “With you.”

The implicit trust in that statement was not lost on Phryne, and in response she smiled in understanding and pulled the hand holding hers up to her mouth for a kiss. He left his hand there and brushed his thumb over her cheek, and for a moment Paris was only black hair and red lips and eyes that truly saw him.

“So,” he eventually said, reluctantly placing their joined hands back on the table and taking a sip of his wine with the other, “when were you last in Paris?”

Phryne didn’t have to think and answered immediately. “Two years ago.”

“Any special reason?”

“Anniversary,” she said. “Ten years a Sagittarius.”

Jack sucked in a quick breath, but was otherwise silent, allowing her to continue or not as she saw fit.

“I hadn’t been back since… I hadn’t been back in a decade and I decided it was time to exorcise some ghosts. It seemed unfair to hold an entire city responsible for one bad apple, horribly rotten as he may be.”

“How did you find Paris when you returned?” Jack asked carefully.

“Smaller,” she said. “But I liked it. I didn’t love it. And it certainly wasn’t home. But it didn’t hold any power over me either and that was what I needed to be sure about.”

“We didn’t have to come,” he echoed her words, curious why she had agreed to join him here.

“I wanted to come,” she replied, echoing his. 

“And how are you finding Paris now?” he asked carefully. 

She thought for a moment. “Illuminating,” she finally replied with a smile to match, squeezing his hand. “I like these little adventures with you, Jack. The last few weeks have been… surprising.” Then she shrugged, and Jack was reminded just how sexy shoulders could be. “Besides, what better way to see the City of Lights than with a lighthouse?” she asked, her tone dry but her eyes smiling.

“One would seem to cancel the other out,” Jack replied.

“Or fit right in,” she countered.

“Touché,” he remarked, finally letting go of her hand to lift his glass in salute.

“See,” Phryne pointed out, “you’re a natural at French. You know, you really should learn the language, Jack, it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Jack smiled enigmatically, with just a hint of wicked. “I’ve always been a fan of their kisses,” he replied, and Phryne laughed.

“So I noticed. And, as I said, you’re a natural.”

Jack winked and Phryne shook her head at his cheek. “I mean it though. I’ll bet you have an ear for language.” She took a sip of her wine and raised an eyebrow. “You certainly have the tongue for it.” 

Jack fought back a smug smirk, and instead tilted his head towards the door. 

“Speaking of which, we could just ditch dinner and check out the hotel. I’ve always wanted to see Paris by third floor window.”

“Easy tiger,” she scolded. “First sustenance, then decadence. Besides, this place was recommended by Mr B, so I’m sure it will be delicious.”

Jack nodded in agreement, then leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine and listening to the music playing softly in the background.

> _Trois navires de blé s'en firent rentrer, nous irons jouer_
> 
> _Sur le bord de l'eau nous irons jouer dans l'île_
> 
> _Trois filles d'un roi veulent marchander,_
> 
> _nous irons jouer sur le bord de l'eau_

“This is a very pretty song,” he commented.

Phryne listened for a moment. 

“I think it’s a folk song. Something about three girls playing at the water’s edge.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Jack said.

“Sounds fun,” Phryne countered.

Jack snorted and Phryne grinned, both continuing to listen to the music as they sipped their wine.

“This… this reminds me a bit of my childhood actually,” Phryne began, no longer grinning, her expression now more wistful. “Something my sister and I used to do. There was this spot by the Yarra where people were forever leaving large items of trash they didn’t want to dispose of properly. We used to go down to scavenge there all the time. And one day someone dropped off this old bathtub. Nothing special, but Janey and I found some bedding nearby and made it into a pirate ship. We used to spend hours down there, pretending to sail the seven seas.”

“The Pirate Girls of Collingwood, hmmm?” Jack teased kindly.

“Precisely. I was the Captain, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And Janey… Janey was the finest first mate Melbourne ever saw.” Phryne smiled again, but this time it was small and a little sad. “I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

“It’s fitting though,” Jack said.

“Hmmm?”

“Well, that’s still where you live.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re…” Jack struggled to come up with the right words. “You’re still like a ship at sea, Phryne.”

“Well,” she said with a frown, “that sounds lonely.”

“No, it’s incredible,” he assured her. “You visit ports and you meet people and you bring excitement, and then you’re off again. You can’t visit us commoners on land _except_ at the water’s edge. Land is too boring, nothing to call you in. You’re still that pirate girl off on an adventure.” Jack reached across the table and took her hand again, looking into her eyes as he continued. “And every time you discover something new - for your books, for _yourself_ \- you take her with you.”

Phryne blinked back the tears that had traitorously pooled during his speech and gently squeezed his hand. Shaking her head a little to regain her equilibrium, she reached for her wine glass.

“Nothing wrong with a little adventure, Jack,” she reminded him before taking a sip.

“Nothing at all.”

“But you do know what else is at the water’s edge, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Lighthouses.”

Jack looked surprised for a moment, then swallowed and took a sip of his own wine to collect himself. “Be careful, Mademoiselle Fisher, that sounds awfully serious for someone in a casual, holiday romance.” He was teasing, but there was a slight unsteadiness in his voice. Not panic, but certainly nerves. 

“Besides,” he continued, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters, “it would take a very brave man to try and call you in to the shore.”

“Or a very foolish one,” she added with a knowing smile and a nod, soothing the last of his anxieties. Then she put down her wine glass and stood up. “Ladies room,” she explained, turning towards the loo. She stopped though, after a step, and turned back to look at him, a funny sort of expression on her face. She walked over and kissed him, softly.

“Parfois, Jack Robinson, j'aimerais que tu sois un peu plus imprudent. ( _Sometimes, Jack Robinson, I wish you were a little more foolish._ )”

She didn’t expect an answer and she didn’t receive one, so after a moment she turned and walked away, leaving Jack alone at the table.

Addressing his wine glass, and unheard by anyone else, he quietly answered her.

“Je n'y suis pas encore, mais je travaille dessus, mon amour. ( _I'm not there yet, but I'm working on it, my love._ )”

**Author's Note:**

> So the plan right now is to continue this series with one more story. That's the plan anyway! ;-)


End file.
